


The Perfect Gift

by glassteacup



Series: Life & Love in St. Petersburg [2]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Awkward Boners, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, M/M, Morning Cuddles, Oral Sex, Presents, Showers, Sleepy Cuddles, Sweet, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Valentine's Day, Valentine's Day Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-21
Updated: 2017-02-21
Packaged: 2018-09-26 00:13:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9853211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glassteacup/pseuds/glassteacup
Summary: Yuuri ponders over getting Viktor the perfect Valentine's Day gift.Yuuri thinks hard, face flushing as snippets of memories come to mind. Therewasthat suspicious abundance of red, lace, and hearts in the shopping center when they went to buy new sofa cushions last Sunday. And just yesterday, Viktor announced to Yakov and the rest of their rink mates that he scheduled a rest day for himself and Yuuri for Tuesday. Yakov accepted the news with a grunt, Yurio immediately pulled a face, Mila beamed at him, and Georgi offered a stoic clap on the shoulder. It was all rather bewildering, but he had chalked it up to the Russian team being themselves.But worse, come to think of it, Viktor’s been acting strange lately - shooting him more sappy smiles than usual and humming an awful lot. Yuuri didn’t put much stock behind it, assuming that he was just getting better at detecting Viktor; he didn’t consider the possibility that Viktor has dramatically increased the sheer number of smiles. Shit. Shit. Shit.





	

“So, what do you and Viktor have planned for the big day?” Phichit chirps, his excitement coming through clear even over speakerphone.

Yuuri tilts his head, utterly mystified by the question. “Big day?” he repeats. Surely Phichit doesn’t mean his wedding with Viktor - that’s still a date to be determined. He blushes reflexively at the idea of the wedding and glances down at his ring for reassurance; sometimes, his new life in St. Petersburg still feels like a dream.

Phichit grins, leaning in closer to his phone to fill the screen with his eyes. They’re Bambi-level innocent and his voice is dripping with sugar sweet persuasion. Yuuri’s been on the receiving end of this double-whammy of a combo way too many times in the past to count and recognizes it immediately. Previously, among other things, it’s led to innumerable secret midnight runs to the ice cream shop near campus - a flagrant violation of the strict diet Ciao-Ciao had implemented. “Valentine’s Day next Tuesday, of course,” he admonishes. “Spill the deets, please. As your best friend, it’s practically my duty to break the news for Twitter.” 

Yuuri startles, eyebrows shooting up. Wait. Did Phichit say next Tuesday? Shit. 

It’s been a whirlwind since he moved to St. Petersburg, each day blending into the next in a blur of jetlag, rink time, and settling into Viktor’s - no, their - apartment. He's had Valentine's Day on his mind since the start of the year but the stress of thinking of it had him pushing it into the corner to deal with on another day. Is it really Valentine’s Day next Tuesday? Shit. Major backfire to the plan. He hasn’t looked at a calendar in ages. “I um… I’m not telling,” he says, feeling the blood drain from his face. It’s worth a shot.

Phichit gives Yuuri a pensive look, phone now sufficiently far away from his face for Yuuri to see his furrowed brow. “Yuuri Katsuki! Is that not telling or is that you don’t have anything to tell because you forgot?”

Yuuri smiles at the scandalized tone Phichit’s voice takes on, a wave of nostalgia for his best friend washing over him. “I may or may not have forgotten,” he admits sheepishly. He tries to swallow down the irrational panic that Viktor is going to demand a divorce over this mishap. Surely that's not possible, if only because they're not actually married yet.

“It’s okay,” Phichit says, transitioning smoothly into a support role with a reassuring smile. “Do they even celebrate it in Russia?”

Yuuri thinks hard, face flushing as snippets of memories come to mind. There _was_ that suspicious abundance of red, lace, and hearts in the shopping center when they went to buy new sofa cushions last Sunday. And just yesterday, Viktor announced to Yakov and the rest of their rink mates that he scheduled a rest day for himself and Yuuri for Tuesday. Yakov accepted the news with a grunt, Yurio immediately pulled a face, Mila beamed at him, and Georgi offered a stoic clap on the shoulder. It was all rather bewildering, but he had chalked it up to the Russian team being... well, themselves. 

But worse, come to think of it, Viktor’s been acting strange lately - shooting him more sappy smiles than usual and humming an awful lot. Yuuri didn’t put much stock behind it, assuming that he was just getting better at detecting Viktor; he didn’t consider the possibility that Viktor has dramatically increased the sheer number of smiles. Shit. Shit. Shit. 

“Yes,” Yuuri says ruefully, hanging his head. “It would seem that they do.”

“You still have time to pull something together,” Phichit says encouragingly.

Yuuri sighs, feeling a pebble of the tension leaving the boulder on his shoulders. That’s true. It could be much worse. He could’ve forgotten until it was the actual day itself. Thank goodness for inquisitive best friends. Now, he has a full three and a half days to plan a Valentine’s Day to woo his fiancé. His _living legend, darling of Russia, heartthrob on ice, one of the most eligible bachelors in the world until he claimed him_ fiancé. No big deal at all. He offers Phichit a weak smile. “Thanks for the reminder.”

\--

Yuuri comes within a few centimeters of introducing his body to the side of the rink walls, managing to avoid collision by veering away sharply at the last second and even miraculously managing to stay on his feet. In short order, he is surrounded by his rink mates.

“You almost broke the rink with your thick skull,” Yurio grumbles, patting the rink gently with his gloved hand.

“Sorry,” Yuuri says breathlessly, leaning against Viktor.

“Are you okay?” Mila inquires, inching up close and peering at his eyes. 

“I’m fine,” Yuuri says, hands fluttering nervously. It’s an amateur mistake. He conscientiously packages up the nagging worry that Yakov is purchasing him a one-way ticket back to Tokyo for disgracing the rink even as they speak and tosses it back into the dark corners of his brain. He’s still reassuring Mila and Yurio that nothing is broken when Viktor starts tugging them backwards to the exit. 

“It’s time for Yuuri to rest,” Viktor says, waving cheerfully at their rink mates.

Yuuri lets his body go lax as Viktor pulls them along. He should be protesting more but it feels too nice. They plod their way over to the benches with Viktor's arm firmly planted around Yuuri's waist.

Once seated, Viktor immediately props Yuuri’s left leg up on his lap and starts unlacing his skate.

“Wait. I just need a break,” Yuuri says, attempting to lift his leg away. He doesn’t get far; Viktor has it firmly in his grasp. Yuuri is pretty sure Viktor must’ve been an octopus in a past life; he’s extremely skilled at clinging. “I want to get back on the ice soon.”

“You’re preoccupied,” Viktor scolds fondly, tugging the left skate off and setting it aside. “What were you even thinking about?”

“Nothing much,” Yuuri says, hoping he’s vague enough for the lie not to show on his face. Ohh.. just how to give his fiancé a wonderful first Valentine’s Day together. “I spaced out.” This part was true. Maybe it will cancel out the first part.

Viktor gives him an inquisitive look but doesn’t prod. Instead, Viktor taps his right leg and Yuuri obligingly lifts it for him, pivoting his body on the bench so that they're perpendicular.

“Okay, well I want you off the ice until you can focus again,” Viktor says, loosening the laces and pulling his right skate off. His fingers massage Yuuri’s feet gently, systematically searching for any hidden injuries. It's a comforting routine. 

Yuuri opens his mouth to protest but closes it promptly when he finds he has no reasonable rebuttal. He _is_ distracted. There's no question about it and Viktor is right.

Viktor leans over and kisses his cheek before digging into his coat pocket and fishing out his phone. “Here - you can study the recordings I made yesterday,” he says. “It’ll help get your mind focused again. I'm going to go warm up.”

Yuuri accepts the phone and swings his legs off of Viktor's lap, tucking both of them up against his chest to keep his feet off the chilly floor. 

Viktor leans down and kisses the top of his head. “I'm glad you're not hurt,” he says softly.

Yuuri’s heart clenches tightly in empathy, knowing exactly what Viktor is thinking to prompt such words. Witnessing Viktor stumbling on the ice is a thousand times more terrifying than his own worst falls. He tilts his head up, pursing his lips for a proper kiss, blushing at the boldness of doing this in public. “I'm sorry I worried you,” he says. 

Viktor's eyes light up and he leans down to give Yuuri a chaste kiss. “Study up,” he says with a grin, using his stern coach voice. 

\--

Yuuri spends the rest of the practice session watching Viktor glide gracefully on the ice while wiping down melted ice chips from his skates. Viktor’s precious phone is abandoned on the side. It buzzes and chirps with such regularity that the sound blends in with the soothing noises of skates scraping against ice.

After almost a year of retirement, the difference in Viktor’s skating is marked. In Hasetsu, they prioritized rink time for Yuuri. Viktor always squeezed in ice time for himself and of course, he would demonstrate for Yuuri, but altogether, that paltry amount of time on the ice is no substitute for the hours of daily dedicated training of a world champion at his peak. The lack of practice is affecting the height and speed of his jumps and there’s a slight roughness to his skating that is jarring to watch. If it was any other skater, the performance would still be beautiful and perhaps even viable in competition. But there's no mistaking it. The Viktor he's watching right now is not up to snuff of the living legend Viktor. 

Yuuri swallows hard around the lump of guilt in his throat; it's become a reflexive action as of late. He may have monopolized Viktor and stolen him from the world, but he's also returned him to the ice - his first love - where he belongs _and_ he is doing his best to take care of him properly. He repeats this mantra to himself until the vague sense of unease fades away. Plus, Viktor is making rapid headway every day. He only needs to watch Yakov to see the hint of a smile on his lips to be reassured that it's not just his imagination that Viktor is improving steadily. 

\--

Yuuri traces each new bruise on Viktor's body with his fingers gently. He pauses at a particularly nasty looking splotch on Viktor's side near his hip. “How did you even get this one?” he asks. He frowns, replaying his mental footage from today’s practice.

Viktor's eyes flutter open, hand coming up to palm his face. “Nevermind that. Just make it feel better with a kiss?” he wheedles. 

Yuuri giggles but obliges anyway, throwing in kisses for a few other old injuries that he notices. And, for extra measure in case the kisses don't work, he carefully rubs in muscle ointment with the pads of his fingers, ears turning bright red as Viktor gives him a breathy moan, not unlike sounds he earns from him through their other activities in bed. “I hope you don't make those noises for other masseuses,” he says primly. 

Viktor laughs easily. “No, none as talented as you.”

Yuuri bends down to kiss Viktor's mop of hair. It’s like moonlight, strands falling haphazardly all over the pillow. He’s been on a one-man campaign for Viktor to grow his hair out; so far, it’s been pretty successful. “I can't help it if someone is giving me a lot of practice.”

Viktor tilts his head, pursing his lips. Yuuri bends down and kisses him there too. It's not how he imagined romance but it's perfect nonetheless in all of its muscle ointment mentholated haze. 

“I'm such a nice coach, giving you so much practice time,” Viktor murmurs through yawns.

Yuuri smiles fondly. His poor, tired Viktor. He plants light kisses all over his face and and puffs up with pride as Viktor drifts off to sleep immediately. It’s a neat trick he figured out a few weeks ago and it’s not failed him yet.

Yuuri screws the lid back on the jar slowly, wary of waking Viktor. As hard as Viktor drives Yuuri on the ice, he pushes himself at least five times as strictly. Viktor is unparalleled on the ice - now that Yuuri is watching him in the rink every day, he can see that there's a healthy dose of innate talent involved but it's backed by an intense dedication and devotion to the rink. His hardworking Viktor deserves a wonderful Valentine’s Day. Yuuri wipes his fingers off with a tissue and curls up behind Viktor, tucking him in protectively against his chest for the night.

\--

Yuuri whines grumpily, cracking one eye open. Viktor is wriggling around in his arms and judging by the lack of light in the bedroom, Yuuri is not nearly ready for the beginning of the day. 

As the fogginess of sleep clears his head, his heart starts racing and his face heats up. Shit. There is one part of him that is very awake and ready. And Viktor isn’t trying to get away; he’s aiming to get closer. 

Yuuri freezes, mortified. Is Viktor awake? He holds his breath, listening carefully to the sound of Viktor’s breathing, heart rate slowing down marginally as he notes that it’s deep and even. There’s still time to fix this situation then. Tensing his muscles, he inches the lower half of his body away from Viktor, extricating his arm simultaneously. 

Yuuri relaxes, breathing in deeply as his back hits the bed. His escape doesn’t go unnoticed. Viktor is making sad whimpering noises that tug sharply at Yuuri’s heart strings. There’s a flurry of linen from Viktor’s side of the bed and Yuuri’s face turns bright red as he realizes that despite his best efforts, this new position may be worse. 

Yuuri bites back a whimper. Viktor has laid claim to one half of his body, both of his legs falling on either side of his left leg. He can feel Viktor’s arousal, hot and hard, snuggled in between their bodies. As for his own, it is frustratingly far away from the warmth of Viktor’s body. Viktor sighs softly and curls his fist in a handful of his t-shirt. Yuuri echoes his sigh and wraps his arms around Viktor's back, resigned to this new sleeping arrangement. 

\--

When Yuuri wakes up again, it is to one of his personal alarm clocks peppering his face with kisses. There's a distinct lack of doggy breath or wet tongue to these kisses so he deduces it is his fiancé alarm clock and not the poodle one. He stays still, hopeful that Viktor will get bored and leave him alone for another precious five minutes.

It is a lovely deluded thought that lasts five seconds. There must’ve been a telltale sign of desperation on his face. Viktor purrs in triumph, fingers sliding under his t-shirt, hiking the loose cloth up easily. With Yuuri’s sleep addled brain racing to catch up, he blushes fiercely as he recognizes another key fact - they’re both hard. Tingles run up and down his spine as he feels Viktor leaning up to nip his ear. 

“Good morning, my sunshine,” Viktor whispers. 

Yuuri opens his eyes, smiling reflexively as he finds himself looking straight back into Viktor’s eyes. 

“Did you sleep well?”

Yuuri flushes hot and settles for nodding his head. “You?”

“Good question.” Viktor grins and slides himself fully on top of Yuuri. “Very well,” he reports, nuzzling Yuuri’s cheek. 

Yuuri bites back a gasp, finding it difficult to concentrate on speaking. Viktor’s length is throbbing alongside his own and his heart is thumping wildly. “What time is it?”

Viktor’s eyes twinkle. “We have time,” he says with a sweet smile. 

“Time for what?” Yuuri says, regretting the words the second they leave his mouth as he watches Viktor lick his lips. He fell right into the trap. But is it still a trap if he wants the same thing? 

Viktor rolls over to the side, propping himself up with his right elbow as his left hand slides down to fumble at the fly to Yuuri’s pajama pants. Yuuri blushes hard, hurrying to help. Together, they manage to fish Yuuri’s cock out of his pajamas and he draws in a shaky breath as Viktor’s hand wraps around it, pumping it slowly. It feels sinfully good, the dull ache of pent up lust chased away. 

“I love looking at you in the morning,” Viktor says, face so close to Yuuri’s that he feels his breath tickling his cheeks.

“I thought you loved looking at me at night,” Yuuri manages to joke back weakly. His stomach is fluttering with butterflies. The rustling of the linen as it moves around Viktor’s hand is unbearably erotic.

Viktor hums in agreement. “That too,” he says. 

Yuuri blushes hard as he remembers the weekend they spent cuddling in bed last month filling out a silly online quiz for couples. One question in particular - the favorite part of your partner’s body - devolved into a fit of giggling and tickling with Viktor kissing him all over and declaring different parts in turn to be vkusno, delicious, or 美味しい. They never got around to finishing the quiz. But as there wasn’t a single body part that didn’t end up as the focus of ardent compliments from Viktor, Yuuri suspects that Viktor’s answer for that particular question may be _everything_. 

Viktor tilts his head for a kiss and Yuuri’s heart races. The combination of Viktor’s look of adoration along with the steady stroking motions of his hand has his brain rapidly shutting down. He leans up for the kiss, hand searching around desperately for Viktor’s erection, blushing as he bumps into it. It feels hot even through the silky smoothness of Viktor’s pajama pants. It’s awkward positioning but he wraps his hand around it gently, drawing clumsy circles around the head with his thumb, gratified to hear Viktor’s breath catching in his throat. 

Viktor moans low and wriggles free. Yuuri looks up at him, blinking at the sudden losses of Viktor’s erection in his hand and Viktor’s hand wrapped around his. 

“Not yet,” Viktor says with a smile. “I want to concentrate on you.” 

Yuuri continues blinking at Viktor in confusion but the message suddenly becomes crystal clear as Viktor starts pushing away at all of the blankets around them, tossing them aside carelessly. The sudden coolness of the air feels delicious on his skin and he can feel his erection straining eagerly toward Viktor. If he wasn’t so busy ogling Viktor shamelessly, Yuuri would be more embarrassed about his current state. He takes in the sight of Viktor’s length proudly tenting out his pajamas and licks his lips. Fuck. If only he had his glasses or contacts on. He can almost swear that there is a wet spot forming in the front but it’s hard to tell in the dim lighting and Viktor is moving away from him. 

His heart rate speeds up as Viktor settles down in between his legs. He scrambles to prop his upper body up with his elbows, making it just in time to watch Viktor wrap his lips around his length. It doesn’t take long. The teasing all morning is very effective and Viktor is only a few strokes in before Yuuri is arching his hips up into his mouth, gasping as he watches it slide in deeply one last time before he lets go. Viktor swallows around him easily, tongue dancing around the underside of his length and Yuuri whimpers through the spikes of pleasure. 

Viktor immediately lets go and scrambles to his side. Yuuri closes his eyes briefly to recuperate. In between the rise and fall of the orgasm and Viktor’s enthusiastic attention, inspiration struck - something that is uniquely them to describe their love. He knows exactly what to get Viktor for Valentine’s Day.

He opens his eyes shyly and smiles at Viktor, leaning in to kiss his lips. “Thank you,” he murmurs. 

Viktor beams back at him. “Good morning,” he purrs.

Yuuri laughs. “A very good morning,” he agrees. “C- can I touch you now?”

Viktor nuzzles his cheek. “One second, love. Let me check the time first.” He leans over Yuuri to snag his phone from his side of the bed. Viktor turns back to him with a guilty look in his eyes. “We need to leave in thirty minutes or Yakov will chop off our heads.”

Despite this dire warning, Yuuri giggles and leans up to kiss Viktor’s cheek. Yuuri from even a month ago would've been wracked with guilt and worry but Viktor is adddictive and they've had some even closer calls lately, squeaking onto the ice rink mere moments before Yakov stalks out of the office. “I’ll take care of you in the shower then,” he says, still high on adrenaline, thrilling to see a blush rise on Viktor’s cheeks. 

Thirty minutes is a luxurious amount of time to brush their teeth and hop into the shower. Breakfast is rather overrated anyway; they'll grab a few bananas on their way out the door. 

Yuuri wraps his arms around Viktor’ from behind, curling one arm around his waist to offer support as his other hand slides down taut, muscled belly to take hold of Viktor. He strokes slowly, twisting his hand in the rocking motion that Viktor loves. Viktor keens low, the sound blending in seamlessly with the thrumming backdrop of water cascading around them. It’s enough to make Yuuri painfully aware of his own erection doing its best to make its presence known to Viktor’s butt.

“Faster?” Viktor requests breathlessly and Yuuri speeds up, kissing along the nape of Viktor’s neck. This seems to be the thing that pushes Viktor off the edge. Viktor’s body arches forward and Yuuri follows him desperately with his hips, biting his lip as he works Viktor through his orgasm. 

When Viktor turns around for a hug, Yuuri blushes. Viktor’s arousal has barely gone down and the same could be said for himself. But alas. As much as he yearns to indulge in spending the day making love to Vitkor, his healthy fear of Yakov raining wrath down on their heads proves to be a damper on those thoughts and has them scurrying out the door. 

\--

Valentine’s Day is on them in a flash. 

Yuuri yawns as he turns over in bed to watch his fiancé. Bless his heart, Viktor has yet to see a sunrise that he doesn’t like. He is sitting up in bed, flicking through his phone rapidly, tiny grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. 

An alarm bell starts ringing stridently at the back of Yuuri’s head. From experience, he's certain there’s a picture of him on Instagram now with bed ruffled hair and drool coming out of the side of his mouth accompanied by some outrageous hashtags. Maybe if he ignores social media all day today, the picture will disappear by magic. The more likely story is that he will find some new memes of his face with #relationshipgoals on the internet. Viktor collects the memes like he collects medals on the ice - they're his new trophies for his love. 

“Good morning,” Yuuri croaks.

“Oh, my sleeping beauty!” Viktor chirps, hand coming down to smooth the hair on his head. “You looked so peaceful I didn’t want to wake you up.”

Yuuri slumps down into his pillow, enjoying the touch. “It’s our day off. It would be terrible of you to not let me rest,” he mumbles, shuddering slightly as a frisson of pleasure rolls down his spine with Viktor scratching the nape of his neck. 

The magic of the moment vanishes in a wisp of smoke as Viktor giggles and pokes his cheek. “It’s good that I’m not terrible then,” he says with boisterous cheer and boundless confidence. “Rise and shine! What do you want to do today?”

There’s a note of plaintive vulnerability in Viktor’s voice in the last sentence that has Yuuri snapping to attention. He opens his eyes and slides his hand into Viktor’s, squeezing it tightly. This is the closest that they’ve explicitly discussed Valentine's Day. Yuuri knows that it goes without saying that Viktor’s prepared something and he feels semi-confident in his own plans after discussing them exhaustively with Phichit and even getting Chris to weigh in. “I was thinking we could stay home and relax?” he suggests tentatively. “But you can take Makkachin on his mid-morning walk to that park with the pond that he likes.” 

Viktor pouts, tilting his head down so that the hair falls over his eyes. “We’re not taking him on the walk together?”

Yuuri's determination wavers. Luckily, on cue for his role, Makkachin bounces happily into the bedroom, taking a flying leap onto the bed, summoned by the keywords of his name and the word walk. 

Yuuri yelps as the furball lands neatly in between their bodies, cold nose nuzzling indiscriminately for pets and cuddles. He scratches Makkachin behind the ear until he settles down, belly up for attention from Viktor. “I think it would be nice for you to spend time with Makkachin,” he says.

Viktor blinks slowly at him, eyes narrowing slightly. “Oh?”

“Maybe stay out for umm.. two hours?” Yuuri hazards. That should be enough buffer time in case he needs to make a second batch.

Viktor grins, back to full rainbow sunshine mode. “Okay. But I’m setting an alarm for the two hours,” he says. 

\--

Yuuri shoos Viktor and Makkachin out the door at 10am, intent on the goal of a 12pm lunch time. He watches from the window as they turn the corner of their block before dashing out the door himself, making a beeline for Yurio’s apartment. 

It’s only a few blocks away but with all of his layers, he’s broken a light sweat by the time he rings the bell to Yurio’s apartment in the lobby. 

“Yes?” comes a familiar grouchy voice. 

“It's me,” Yuuri says. “Can you buzz me up?”

Yurio greets him at the door of his apartment with a glare and an armful of an overflowing brown paper bag. “You owe me,” he says, thrusting the bag forward unceremoniously. 

Yuuri hurries to take the bag, hoisting it up carefully. “Thank you,” he says sincerely. “You're a lifesaver.”

Yurio's glare softens by five degrees. “Just don't blame me when you get too fat to do jumps,” he says. 

Yuuri beams, accepting this for the concern that Yurio intends it to be. “I'm making small portion sizes,” he reassures Yurio.

Yurio gives him a frown that Yakov would be proud of and Yuuri uses his free hand to wave goodbye, calling out promises as he steps back into the elevator that they’ll work on Yurio’s step sequences together tomorrow.

\--

Back home again, he finds himself moving on autopilot and muscle memory. The ingredient brands are different from his preferred ones what with the limited selection in the international store but they should be serviceable until Yuuri can request a care package from home. Once he has his sleeves rolled up, the tasks and steps to making katsudon are no different than when he is helping mama at home. 

He hums as he shapes the cutlets with care, setting aside several pieces that he deems as failures until he crafts the perfect slice. 

As he's measuring out the last ingredient for the sauce, he hears the jangling of keys at the door. He glances at the clock on the oven and squeaks. True to his word, Viktor is back at noon on the dot. He didn't have time to shower! And he probably smells like peanut oil!

Makkachin dashes into the kitchen, rubbing up against his legs. 

“Hi, sweetie,” Yuuri coos. “Why don't you go drink some water? It's too hot by the stove now.”

Makkachin obediently trots over to his water dish and Yuuri resumes pouring the last ingredient into the sauce bowl. No sooner does he set the spoon down are his arms pinned to the side by Viktor squeezing him tightly from behind. 

“Yuuri! You cooked lunch for us?” Viktor purrs into his ear. 

Yuuri blushes as he gets a kiss on the cheek. Viktor steps away and his fingers make quick work of undoing the apron strings, pulling it over his head and draping it over the counter before pulling him back into a proper hug. 

“You smell good,” Viktor murmurs, nuzzling his cheek. 

Yuuri laughs. Well, at least Viktor doesn’t mind eau de peanut oil. “If it's half as tasty, then it'll be a success,” he says. 

“I'm sure it's delicious,” Viktor says loyally, eyes shining bright. He sniffs the air curiously. “What did you make?”

“Go sit,” Yuuri says. “I’m almost finished in here and it’s a surprise.” Thank goodness he had the foresight to put all of the extra ingredients away and tuck the fried cutlets on the other side of the counter to cool.

“Can I help?” Viktor says. 

Yuuri shakes his head resolutely and turns Viktor around by the shoulders, pointing him in the direction of the dining room. 

With no more distractions, Yuuri assembles bowls of soup and the main dish, spooning generous helpings of sauce over the top. He sets everything on a tray and walks it over to the dining table. Viktor is smiling eagerly at him and he can't help mirroring his happiness. He places Viktor's bowl in front of him, taking care to turn it so that it was in the correct orientation before lifting the lid for him. 

“Oh, Yuuri,” Viktor says, eyes shining brightly. 

Yuuri takes the seat opposite him. “Do you like it?” he asks shyly.

“It's perfect,” Viktor croons, finger tracing the edges of the heart shaped cutlet. 

Yuuri blushes. It looks better than he expected and Viktor's reaction would be a little silly if he wasn't so earnestly over the moon about his present. 

“A few pictures before we eat,” Viktor declares. “I want to remember this forever.” He takes several snapshots of his meal from different angles before pulling Yuuri in for a selfie as well, cheeks pressed together. 

Yuuri grins. “If you give Phichit a thirty seconds heads-up before you tweet so that he can be the first to retweet, he’ll love you forever,” he says.

Viktor laughs and agrees easily before setting his phone aside and digging his chopsticks into the side of the bowl with reverent care. 

Yuuri watches Viktor’s expression anxiously, breathing out in relief as an expression of bliss crosses his face. Katsudon probably ranks extremely low on Yakov’s list of acceptable foods for skaters during the competition season but Yuuri decides that this is definitely worth getting up an extra half hour for the next week to work off the calories. 

“This is delicious,” Viktor purrs. “It’s just as tasty as your mama’s.”

"Flatterer," Yuuri says with a smile.

"Truth," Viktor insists.

They polish off their lunch while Viktor shares stories about Makkachin’s walk, wash up together, and settle down on the living room couch. 

Viktor takes his customary spot of lying in Yuuri's lap. “Do you want to see your present now?” Viktor's eyes are dancing with repressed excitement.

“You got me a present?” Yuuri says. He’s not exactly surprised but it does seem like the polite thing to say in this situation. If anything, he’s more surprised that he didn’t wake up this morning to a bed full of roses.

Viktor beams. “Of course. What kind of fiancé would I be if I didn't? I had it shipped to Yurio's apartment so you wouldn't find it and I picked it up on the way back from the walk.”

Yuuri giggles, carding his fingers through Viktor’s hair. “Oh dear. I asked Yurio to buy the ingredients for lunch and hide them in his fridge.”

“Yurio must really love us,” Viktor chirps fondly, bouncing to his feet. “Wait here. I’m going to fetch your present.”

Yuuri curls his feet up on the couch, hugging his knees to his chest. Yurio is a softy at heart - he is sure to grumble endlessly tomorrow about getting wrapped up unwillingly in their Valentine's Day plans but he has much more growl than bite to him. He takes a deep breath, toes wriggling against the sofa cushion as he prepares himself mentally for any number of scenarios. Stressed as he was from thinking of Viktor’s gift, he hasn’t spared much thought to what Viktor would prepare. This may have been a miscalculation.

Viktor reappears with an unwieldy box in tow, head peeking over the top and feet shuffling along the ground as Makkachin trots next to his side. He eases the box onto the coffee table with care and Yuuri eyes it cautiously. It's rather large, wrapped in elegant silver paper with an elaborate red ribbon all around that finishes with a giant bow on top.

“Go on, open it,” Viktor says. He picks up a pair of scissors from the table and offers it to Yuuri.

Yuuri accepts with only a slightly raised eyebrow. It’s just like Viktor to have pre-planted the scissors. Viktor’s memory is terrible for most things but he’s meticulous about giving gifts. He tugs the ribbon open carefully and Viktor is practically bouncing up and down in excitement. “You’re distracting me,” he says absentmindedly as he searches for the seams in the wrapping paper. He must take this apart carefully so he can treasure the paper. He fully intends to add this to his scrapbook.

Viktor curls up on the couch, pulling his knees to his chest, and Makkachin climbs onto the couch to watch as well.

Yuuri manages to take all of the wrapping paper off in one piece without one rip. He sets it aside quickly, mindful of Viktor’s growing eagerness. Taking up the scissors, he slits open the tape on the top of box, gasping quietly as pulls back the flaps and sees the contents.

“They’re gorgeous,” Yuuri says. He looks at his Viktor, blinking back tears. The blades are a burnished gold, glittering in the afternoon sun - a perfect match to Viktor’s skates and holding unspoken promises and dreams. 

Viktor lets loose a long sigh, launching himself off the couch and flinging his arms around Yuuri in a tight hug. “I wanted to give you something gold too. Happy Valentine’s Day,” he murmurs against his neck. 

Yuuri snuggles in tightly. He couldn’t have asked for a better gift - or a better fiancé. “Happy Valentine’s Day,” he echoes, heart clenching tightly in his chest.

**Author's Note:**

> I realize that it's canon for Yuri to be living with Lilia and Yakov but I figured he demanded his own apartment when he won gold :)


End file.
